


Call My Name

by Umika



Series: Call My Name [1]
Category: The Following
Genre: M/M, double personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:42:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umika/pseuds/Umika
Summary: After Mike Weston through tha "Fight Club" scene, Ryan Hardy feels something has changed inside him, but he wasn't sure, Until he found something strange.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first time post something I wrote here... My English is just normal level, so I don't think I may write some a mazing words in my story.  
> I may try my best to translate_(:з」∠)_

The phone calls have forward to voice mail twice, makes Ryan Hardy began to worry. Some of the things that happened during this time are unbearable to an average person, and even trained federal agents need time and space to release themselves.  
Ryan hesitated for a sec, and then he dialed Mike Weston's number the third time. The dialing tone rings for a long time, long enough to automatically enter the voicemail one more time, when suddenly picked up.

"..."

Ryan heard someone on the other head said something vaguely.  
"Mike? Are you okay? Where are you?"  
"Um ..." Mike's voice was imprecise. "Ryan? You ... call me ...for what?"  
"Where are you, Mike?" Ryan asked again, his voice shows anxious.  
"Where?" Perhaps it was the kind of mood made Mike a little sober, but he didn't seem to understand what Ryan just said fully, and confused for a while, then answered intermittently: "I think ... it's a ... bar ... "  
"A bar?" Ryan grabbed his coat and keys rushed out of the house. "And address? Tell me, and I'll be there soon."  
"Address ... the address is ..." Mike's voice was imprecise again.  
"Damn, Mike!" Ryan got into his car and shut the door heavily. He doesn't know where Mike is, nor is there any reason to use the resources of the FBI to find someone who just got drunk. While he was tormented by what to do next, the phone has been picking up by someone else.  
"Uh ... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be like this," a courtesy voice of a strange man came out of the receiver. "Are you going to pick up your friend?"  
"Yes," Ryan put the phone on speaker immediately, throw it on the seat, start the engine. "It's ok, and I have to thank you for picking up the phone. Can you tell me the address of the bar?  
"Of course."

Ryan takes the shortcut to the bar all the way, maybe he went two or three red light, he didn't notice that, anyway, didn't cause any serious trouble. He was worried about that guy who was sleeping in the bar.

It's not surprising that Ryan saw Mike lying on the bar immediately while he entered the bar, which a short blonde hair was very easy to recognized.  
The bartender figures Ryan's intentions from his face, and he waves his hand with the phone, let him come over. Ryan nodded and walked over to Mike. After he had thanked the bartender, he tried to wake up Mike: "Hey, Mike, Mike ..."  
"Um ..." Mike moved his head and seemed not gonna wake up.  
"Jesus, Mike ..." Ryan looked up at the bartender, "How much has he drunk?"  
"Many," the bartender handed him the phone, make a face like "I saw this so many times." "Rough day?"  
"Yeah, but more than one," Ryan said tiredly, took the phone put in his pocket and taking out some money from another pocket to pay the bill.  
"Oh, no," the bartender whispered, glancing at the unconscious man. "He paid upfront."  
"Mike," Ryan said, looking at the face hidden in the shadows. "Really?" He sighed, pulled Mike's arm around his neck, raised him up, and got the coat on the back of the chair.

You're heavier than I thought ...

Ryan thought. He smiled at the bartender, "Thanks, man."  
"It's ok," said the bartender while he starts clearing the table.

After a bit of trouble, Ryan settled Mike on the codriver's seat. He is sleeping deeply, at this moment alcohol should have played the greatest effect, he won't wake up shortly, even he woke up, won't feel good either. Ryan glanced at him with a silent, then drove ahead to his home.

Detours have become an instinct for field agents. This time also no exception. Ryan went around the block a few laps, then parked the car in the parking lot, gripping the drunken Mike went to his apartment.

"Um ..." Mike snorted as he laid down on the couch.  
"We're home, Mike," Ryan sat beside him, tried to catch up breath.  
Only one lamp has turned on, dim, not particularly bright. Late autumn night, this soft light should make people feel warm, but this kind of warm didn't let the weary-looking faded away from the young agent's face. He leaned closer and looked at him, and the eyelashes with breathing fibrillation were wet.

Cried?

Ryan asked the questioned quietly, with the observation to answered by himself.

He did cry.

There were many reasons why it happened. Ryan didn't want to judge, because he has been there before. Everyone will have a delicate moment and need time to vent.  
"Get a good sleep," Ryan whispered, and he got up and went to the bathroom, putting an end to a tired day.

Ryan was thinking while wiping his hair: Obviously, there's a lot of things buried in Mike's heart for a long time, too long to talk to someone, or didn't even know where to start. But this is part of their job, and terrible things will happen again and even more, continuous accumulation. It seemed the only thing they can do, was burying those things deeper, and deeper. Eventually, at some moment, it will collapse, or breaks out. He wants to sit down and talk to Mike before all this happen. After all, he didn't want Mike to become him.  
The hair has been semi-dry, Ryan threw the towel to the side of the sink, turned lights off. He walked out of the bathroom, took a blanket in the closet, thought the only guest in the stateroom might be needed. But was just taken to the drawing-room, and the scene before he took him by surprise.

"Gee, Mike!" Ryan did not expect Mike to be sitting on the couch and looking around. "you're awake?"  
Mike didn't say anything, but stopped his observation, and turned to Ryan.  
With no reason, Ryan could not speak. Now, the person on that couch, was Mike indeed, but also not. The way that he looked at him, made Ryan feel strange, even a trace of fear.

He saw that look before, was on the day that Lily Gray was killed.

Even didn't want to admit it, or believe it, Ryan asked that simple question difficulty:

"Who are you?"


End file.
